


Cuts and Bruises

by hen_ty (orphan_account)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, aoba being a grumpy nurse, domestic in a weird way i guess, koujaku is bleeding again but not from his nose this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hen_ty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming home late usually isn't that big of a deal, but you're obviously going to have problems when it's 3 AM and you're all fucked up from fighting out on the streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuts and Bruises

He fucked up. 

Not in a ‘oh, I fucked up, might as well rough it out and hope for the best’ kind of way, but in a ‘I fucked up and I’m going to die’ way that Koujaku doesn’t even have the confidence to handle if caught sneaking back into the apartment at this hour. After all, it’s three in the morning, he’s covered in bruises and other injuries from fighting out in the streets, and more importantly, he forgot to pick up the goddamn groceries for dinner-- not that dinner is really the biggest issue weighing on his mind at the moment, but it’s three in the morning and Aoba’s not going to be happy in the slightest, so coming home with the groceries would have at least been a slight cushion for this fuck up. But looking at things now, there’s really no possible way to turn his situation around. 

Well, not without receiving at least one or two swift kicks to the stomach, at least. Aoba isn’t a very forgiving person when it comes to these kind of things, but he does like to get even. Maybe he’ll roll with that and pray that he won’t end up sleeping on the Black Needle couch like last time. 

By the time Koujaku climbs the flight of stairs leading to his door, he notices that the lights are still on inside the apartment. Fuck. Looks like he’ll be biting the bullet and charging headfirst into their inevitable argument. He takes a moment to wipe any dried blood and dirt off his face before turning the key in the lock and (cautiously, oh so cautiously) opening the door. It creaks loudly, much to his dismay, but there’s no answer. It almost feels like the apartment is empty. He’d guess that maybe Aoba forgot to turn off the lights, but his shoes are set by the door, so he’s got to be around somewhere. 

Koujaku isn’t sure whether to be relieved about that or not. Hesitantly, he enters and closes the door behind him, keeping in mind that he could find himself receiving a swift kick to the stomach at any given moment if he lowers his guard. Aoba may be cute, but he’s dangerous. 

“Aoba? I’m, uh, home?”

There’s still no answer. 

Okay, now he’s the one getting worried. Koujaku slips off his shoes and makes his way towards the bedroom, hoping to himself that Aoba didn’t try to go out and find him this late. But by the time he sets foot into the bedroom, the building unease in his gut releases and quickly becomes guilt instead. Aoba’s curled up on top of the bed, still fully dressed in his day clothes, with his coil screen still lit up. It’s still on the dial setting from what he can see, the option to dial Koujaku waiting to be selected. From the looks of it, he fell asleep while trying to make a call. 

Boy, he really, _really_ , fucked up.

Koujaku swallows and moves to grab a spare change of clothes from his dresser. If he hurries and cleans himself up, he can wake Aoba up and spare him any further worries. After all, waking someone up while looking like you just got the shit kicked out of you--which isn’t entirely inaccurate, even if he did win--isn’t the best way to calm them down. Maybe a quick shower will do, followed up by some bandages and a carefully thought out excuse. 

But then there’s a sound from behind as he turns to leave. It’s Ren jumping down from the bed and hurrying towards him. “Koujaku,” he says loudly. “It’s late.”

“Y-Yeah, I know... Er, can you talk a little quieter? Don’t wake Aoba up yet.”

“Aoba would want me to wake him now that you’re home.”

“I know, I know, but now’s not a good time...! I need to clean up first. I’m a mess, you know?”

“You’re injured, Koujaku. I should wake Aoba up so he can treat your wounds.” Ren pauses and tilts his head to the side, taking a moment to look over the other. “Though Aoba’s concerns might grow if you are seen like this.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, so do me a favor, huh?” Koujaku manages to flash the Allmate a small, painful grin before turning once more to head off towards the bathroom. Ren doesn’t follow him, instead choosing to go back to the bed and curl up beside his master again. 

Retreating to the bathroom to clean himself up, Koujaku strips down and turns on the shower. It’s best not to use hot water with injuries like his. The last thing he wants to do is open them up again and start bleeding on himself like earlier. Keeping this in mind, he goes to grab a washcloth and a roll of bandages for afterwards. The bruises on his arms, face, and chest will be alright after a few days or so, but the gashes will take a little more time to get rid of. There’s a bad looking one right on his cheekbone from where the other Rib leader had struck him with those damn rings, and the other runs up his left arm from when he had fallen over onto shards from a broken bottle. 

He hisses as he steps under the shower-head. The water makes his skin ache terribly. But it’s for the best. He can’t just wipe himself down and then call it a night like he used to, back before Aoba moved in. That would probably cause the younger to have a panic attack, if not worse. 

As he pours the small pail of water over his backside, he hears the bathroom door slide open. There’s a quick pause, followed by a sharp, uneasy intake of breath.

“Koujaku, we need to talk.”

Shit. 

Koujaku quickly sets the pail down and rubs his hands over his face to get rid of the dry blood. 

“I know you can hear me. We need to talk about this, seriously.”

Aoba goes over to him and turns off the water, hardly bothered when his own clothes get wet in the process. He’s angry-- well, angry might not be the right word to describe it. But somehow, Koujaku doesn’t get the feeling that he’s about to get kicked. Sure, he’s fucked either way, but this isn’t the exact aura he had been expecting. 

It’s much more like... disappointment. 

Sighing, he sits up from the bath stool and grabs a towel to wrap around his waist. “Listen, Aoba, can you just give me a moment to exp--”

_“What the fuck happened to you?!”_

The outburst is so sudden, Koujaku nearly jumps back in surprise. 

“M-Me? Oh, well, uh...”

Aoba grabs his wrist and yanks him forward for further inspection. His eyes trail everywhere, taking in each and every new injury with disbelief. “Koujaku, were you out fighting again? Shit, your arm-- damn it, I thought we talked about this before!”

Once, and that had been months ago. That time it had been a minor scuffle at a bar, nothing like a challenge set up by a rival team and their leader. It’s not like he can turn these kind of things down when he’s the leader of one of the biggest Rib teams on the island. But Aoba wouldn’t understand that. 

Nervously, Koujaku tugs his hand away and raises it to run through his wet hair. He needs to do something to keep himself distracted from the obvious hurt on Aoba’s face. “I don’t fight as much as I used to, you know, but it’s... well, some guy challenged me in front of everyone when I was dropping in on my team. So I couldn’t really ignore it. I won, though, so it’s all okay?” Aoba finches at that. “A-Ah, well, no, it’s no excuse. I’m sorry, Aoba, really, I just got distracted and lost sight of things. I even forgot the groceries, a-and...”

“Forget that!” 

Aoba grabs him by the wrist and practically drags him back into the bedroom. Koujaku can only helplessly trail behind, using his free hand to clutch at his towel. As they reenter the room, he catches sight of Ren and Beni (when did he wake up and get out, anyway?) hurrying out of the room. Ren glances over at Koujaku, and for the briefest of moments he swears that he can see something apologetic in his eyes.

_Tch, so he did wake up Aoba._

“Sit down.”

And now Aoba is using the scary voice. Koujaku swallows nervously and sits himself down on the bed, unwilling to disobey the other any further than he already has. Aoba scowls at him before turning on his heel and hurrying back to the bathroom to retrieve the bandages and washcloths. 

_I’m so fucked._

Koujaku tries to get up and grab something to wear, but the other is already back in the room and ordering him to sit back down by the time he gets to standing. “Y-Yeah,” he weakly replies, plopping himself back down on the bed. “Sorry, I’m just cold...”

“I can’t dress your wounds when you’re clothed, can I? You’ll have to wait.” Aoba sits down beside him and unrolls the bandages for his arm. “Hold it out for me.”

“Sorry?”

“Hold out your damn arm, Koujaku.”

“O-Oh, right.” 

He does as he’s told, flinching as Aoba tightly compresses the wound with the bandages. It’s not deep enough to require stitches, thankfully, but it still looks pretty fucking bad. That and gross. Aoba must think the same, judging by the look on his face. But he treats it anyway, silent and tense, not daring to make eye contact with Koujaku. Surprisingly, he’s good at this. 

“So... How many was it?”

“Just one. He wore a lot of rings, so it was a pain in the ass whenever he threw a punch. But the guy was all talk in the end.” Koujaku can’t help but grin a little, feeling proud. Sure, it might not be the right time for feeling smug about himself, but he fucking beat the guy in front of two entire teams. That’s still something to appreciate. But Aoba nudges him, not amused at all. “Sorry, sorry. But I’m the Beni-Shigure leader, so it comes with the job.”

“Your job is cutting people’s hair, idiot,” Aoba replies flatly. “You fight those guys just to show off.”

Okay, so maybe it isn’t disappointment. Or not anymore, at least. Koujaku licks his lips and looks off to the side, feeling nervous about the growing tension between them. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Aoba angry before, but this... this is new. It’s also a little scary. The last thing he wants is to have Aoba storm out on him. Clearing his throat, he glances at Aoba, trying to read his expression and figure out something better to say.

“Hey, I’m--”

“Sorry? Good. Keep saying that and maybe I’ll let this one go in a couple years.”

“Are you really that mad at me? It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

A pause. Aoba’s hands are slightly trembling now. They pull away from the bandaging and come to settle on his knes, gripping tight enough to look pretty damn painful. He mumbles something quietly to himself, but when Koujaku leans in to hear him better, Aoba shrinks back and turns away. 

“Not that big of a deal? You idiot,” he mutters, shoulders shaking. “You stay out all night and don’t tell me a thing... Don’t answer any calls or messages... Then you come back looking like this, acting like nothing’s wrong? Like it’s just a minor inconvenience? You’re fucking bleeding. Your arm is torn up and you get into fights enough as it is...” 

Aoba pauses to wipe his eyes-- because shit, he’s crying, and Koujaku is the reason for it. There’s not even a moment of hesitation as he gets up and kneels on the floor before Aoba, placing his hands over the one on his knee. He gives it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “No, no, please don’t cry, I’m sorry.” Something inside of him is breaking as well. At this rate, they’ll both end up crying. “Aoba, please, I promise that I’ll never do this again. I promise, so please, don’t cry. Okay?”

“Don’t do this to me, you idiot, you... you insensitive idiot,” the other continues, voice strained. “You didn’t answer... didn’t answer you coil... and no one’s seen you since you left work...! I called everyone... I was so worried, and you come home like this? I don’t want to see you like this, you know! It scares me!”

“I know, Aoba, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. My coil broke during the fight, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry anymore.”

“That’s no excuse! And... And I’ll fucking cry all I want to!” Aoba pulls his hand away and tries to cover his face. It’s already a flustered mess of tears by now. As badly as he wants to calm down, he can’t, not with Koujaku looking so beat up and hurt right in front of him. He’s always been one quick to cry and Koujaku knows that, but this is just too much for either of them to bear. “It’s not fair... You can’t worry me like this... Your wounds don’t hurt too bad, do they?”

Koujaku sighs and reaches up to pry the other’s hands from his face. There’s resistance at first, of course, but Aoba eventually gives in and drops his hands. A kiss is pressed to each before Koujaku rises to kiss his forehead, then nose, then lips. “No,” he says quietly, “They don’t. I’m sorry for scaring you. Do you want me to get you something to drink to help you calm down a little? Maybe some water?”

“W-Wha... No, stop taking care of me! I need to finish dressing your wounds, you know!”

He laughs softly and kisses Aoba’s cheeks this time, tasting salt on his lips from the tears. “Sorry, it’s my natural instinct to worry about you. I’m really sorry though, Aoba. My coil was broken during the fight--”

“I already said that’s no excuse for worrying me to death!” Aoba reaches over and lightly slaps him upside the head out of habit, only to freeze up with panic and inspect the area. He grabs Koujaku by the shoulders and pulls him forward so he can get a better look. “I didn’t hurt you more, did I?”

Koujaku laughs again, this time unable to suppress his amusement as his lover puffs out his cheeks in embarrassment. At least things are starting to calm down. 

“No, it’s fine. It takes a lot to knock me down, luckily enough. But I won’t be putting that to the test anymore, okay? Only if it’s necessary-- or with Noiz. That brat can’t even land a scratch on me, so it’s hardly a fight to begin with.”

That joke isn’t appreciated. Aoba frowns at him before sliding his arms around Koujaku’s neck, locking him in an odd embrace as he tries to pull him upwards with what strength he has left. Grinning, Koujaku complies, climbing up onto the bed and Aoba. 

“Is this fine?”

“Yeah. Just... let me hold you for a bit. I need to calm down.” Aoba pauses to lick his lips. “I cried like a baby again, didn’t I?”

“No, but it’s been a while since you’ve cried. I think everyone needs to cry every now and then.” Koujaku squeezes him tightly, ignoring the aches and pains that result from it. “But I won’t do that to you anymore, okay? I just... I just need to keep in mind that it’s not just me anymore. It’s us. I guess I need to be more responsible now, huh?”

Aoba sighs and presses a kiss to his jaw, mindful of the bruising. “Me too, you know.” Another kiss, followed by a soft hum. “Hey, let’s finish patching you up now, okay? You look like shit.”

Koujaku laughs and kisses him again. “I feel like it, too.”


End file.
